No Rules Ridge King (readnow TXT) 📖

Jack crawled into the limo first, followed by his dad.

“Dad,” he said, completely frustrated.

Sam touched Jack’s knee and nodded toward the driver up front, slightly shaking his head.

“Driver, pull over, will you? We’re going to walk. Just follow behind us till we’ve had enough of the cold air.”

“Yes, Governor.”

The car pulled over and the St. Clairs got out.

“Dad, you’ve got to give me something here.”

“I know it’s tough, son. It’s just that I’m in a pit of quicksand and there’s really not much I can do about it.”

Sam explained quickly about the Keystone File. Jack listened in complete silence.

“I never did like Phil Slanetti,” said Jack.

“Now you know why,” Sam added with a sly knowing smile.

“Yeah.”

“What would you have done if you were me when Norwalk told you?”

Jack shook his head.

“Uh, you’re blowing my mind, Dad. I don’t think I’d have done anything different. What could you do? You can’t just quit in the middle of the process. That gives the victory to Thurston.”

“I’m stuck, right?”

“You’re stuck, whatever you do. Whatever they do. Whatever anybody does.”

“Now, about Hawkins.”

“Yes, tell me about Matt and this meeting.”

Sam filled Jack in on all the particulars: that it appeared the decision would come down to Matt’s single vote; the offer Norwalk had made to place Matt in the Senate.

“Whoa!” said Jack in a low voice.

“Whoa, indeed,” said Sam with a half smile. “Hawkins will be getting the same feeling I got when I found out about Keystone.”

“He sure will. That’s some kind of deal Norwalk offered him.”

“The deal of a lifetime.”

“Wonder what he’ll do,” Jack mused.

“That’s what he’s thinking right about now,” said Sam, raising his arm for the car to come up.

* * *

Inside the black White House Town Car, Matt rolled down the window to let the fresh cold air inside the heated car.

The chauffeur drove him back to the hotel, where he went directly to the restaurant and ate a big lunch.  He wanted to eat in public, hoping that noise and people bustling around would restore his equilibrium.

He didn’t know what to tell Thurston that night when he met him.  He didn’t know, for that matter, what to tell Patricia, but he decided to tell her everything.

Of course, he’d wanted to accept the proposal as soon as Norwalk made it, but Norwalk had made it quite clear to Matt that he wanted Matt to wrestle with his convictions, to realize that Washington was a place where convictions were bought and sold every day like so many bushels of wheat.  The President said he didn’t want a nervous man responding to his offer.  He wanted a calm man, who knew what he was doing, to answer back.  He wanted Matt to know that he was betraying his convictions, and a part of his soul as well, if he decided to accept.  Apparently, thought Matt, Norwalk was used to people giving up little pieces of their souls, bit by little bit.

A chance to become the youngest senator of all time because he was in the right place at the right time; a chance to have four years in the upper Chamber before having to run for reelection; a chance to build a record and to prove himself so that when he did run he could win; a chance to make a national name for himself, elevate himself even higher.  The price was simple:  he had to give part of himself away, a part that he could never have back. Norwalk in exchange would give him a chance to be greater and more powerful sooner that he ever could have hoped. As he’d put it, it was a simple matter of horse-trading.

Matt knew he was young.  He also knew that it was his youth that held him back from accepting immediately. He still believed strongly in himself and his opinions, his destiny, his private aspirations, his closest hopes and dreams.

What was more important?

Could he cheat Jeffrey Norwalk by fulfilling his dreams without the inestimable boost he was being offered?  For the longest time Matt considered that question.  It was a hard decision.  He found himself wishing he were older, more jaded to the ways of Washington, more experienced in weighing political words and intentions.  The offer couldn’t have been clearer than Norwalk presented it.  But he was young, he knew.  The young always ask questions even when they know there might not be any answers.

After calling Patricia and telling her that he’d be a little late getting to Horizon that night, he went up to his suite to think for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Early that evening Matt went to see Fred Thurston.  He met Peggy and they sat down over drinks.  Afterwards, Peggy left them alone.

“Tell me a little about yourself,” said Thurston.

“Well, I’m thirty years old and was damned lucky to beat Bill Crampton out of his seat,” smiled Matt.

Thurston laughed.

“I’m glad you beat him—that’s all I can say.”

“Others aren’t so happy.”

“I’m sure they aren’t,” said Thurston soberly, reading meaning into Matt’s every word.  “It’s been a long time since I was a freshman congressman.  How do you like Washington?”

“It keeps you jumping, especially with that floor fight coming up.”

“I have a feeling it’ll all be long over by the time the House gets to vote on it, don’t you?”

“I think you may be right, Fred,” said Matt, staring straight ahead.

“Why do you support me, Matt?”

“I agree with your position on China.  Frankly, I think some of your domestic ideas suck shit, but it’s China that’s the polarizing point in this election.”

Thurston smiled at Matt’s honesty.

“Yeah, I guess maybe that is the clincher.”

“Why’d you have me over here?